


Blood, Milk and Sky

by Senzudama



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Bottom Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Bottom Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Needles, POV Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Planet Namek, Saiyan Culture, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tails, Top Raditz (Dragon Ball), Top Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Trauma, Vegeta Saga, hurt: physical, namek saga, saiyan saga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-02-16 15:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senzudama/pseuds/Senzudama
Summary: Vegeta dragged himself panting through the dirt.  His left arm wasn’t working properly; probably dislocated at the shoulder. His right arm gripped his prize relentlessly, legs so weak as to be almost useless.  One was surely broken - he thought he’d spotted a flash of white through the blood soaking his clothes and smeared muddily across his skin.  Most of it was his, a trail of it sucked up by the hungry dust behind him.“Let him go.” The monk, Krillin, pricked the back of his neck with a blade.Vegeta held tight to Kakarotto’s body while turning to face the sword.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Vegeta dragged himself panting through the dirt.  His left arm wasn’t working properly; probably dislocated at the shoulder.  He couldn’t tell exactly - his whole body was roaring its damages at him.  He gritted his teeth and kept going, shifting one knee underneath him, bearing down on it, and dragging his body forward an agonisingly small distance.  His right arm gripped his prize relentlessly, legs so weak as to be almost useless.  One was surely broken - he thought he’d spotted a flash of white through the blood soaking his clothes and smeared muddily across his skin.  Most of it was his, a trail of it sucked up by the hungry dust behind him and baked under the glaring sun sinking to the horizon.  His tail.  His fucking _tail_.  Agony up his spine.

Vegeta ignored the sound of shuffling steps pursuing him.  His Saiyan space pod was only metres away now.  Blood- and grime-encrusted gloves trembled in the dirt.  Disgusting weakness.  Hot, shameful tears pricked his eyes and diluted the blood running down his face.  As he heaved his shoulders over the lip of the space pod, a booted foot planted itself in the small of his back.  Vegeta’s breath heaved out of him with a groan, something grinding inside. 

“Let him go.” The monk, Krillin, pricked the back of his neck with a blade. 

Vegeta held tight to Kakarotto’s body while turning to face the sword. 

“Cut me and he dies.”  His hand slid from its hold on the torn gi to clasp Kakarotto’s neck. 

Kakarotto’s throat pulsed under his fingers as he spoke. 

“Krillin, don’t…”

Vegeta kicked his weight backwards into the pod, ignoring Krillin’s agonised face and hovering blade.  He pulled Kakarotto’s bulk atop himself in the seat, slick fingers slipping.  Krillin seemed to waver, then fell forward and dared to lay a hand on the other Saiyan.  Vegeta _saw_ his own ki flicker to life before he felt it, and a guttural snarl ripped from his chest. 

“He’s _MINE_.”

The blue flare repelled the monk into the air.  He landed with a puff in the dust next to Kakarotto’s half-breed, and didn’t rise again.  Vegeta felt nothing. 

He arranged Kakarotto’s unresisting limbs against his smaller ones to permit the pod to close, and keyed the sequence for planetary departure.  The thundering pressure of takeoff threatened the edges of his vision with blackness.  Have to fight it.  Have to program the ship.  Stay the fuck awake.  Blood trickled in streams down his body from contusions - Vegeta focused on how wet and uncomfortable the growing puddle was on the cold leather.

Finally, the crush of the engine boost subsided and the safe blackness of space replaced the prickling darkness in his periphery.  There was barely room to move with a large Saiyan crammed in with him, but Vegeta snaked his good arm past Kakarotto’s bulk to set the pod to navigate to the nearest galaxy’s recon station.  Was this the worst shape he’d returned to one in?  He couldn’t remember.  Had he been here before?  Kakarotto smelled so familiar.  Like home.

Vegeta opened his eyes with a start.  No.  He had to finish his task.  He held his hand before Kakarotto’s face - still breathing.  He fumbled beside the seat for the emergency kit, finding the hypo-med.  One pod, one occupant, one syringe.  Kakarotto murmured unhappily as Vegeta slid the cold metal under the skin of his arm and emptied its contents into him. 

“He’ll make it as far as medbay.  As for me…”  Vegeta shut his eyes.  He hadn’t even had time…

 

* * *

 

Vegeta floated, safe.  His arms around the warmth. 

That scent - he could taste it.  Blood on his lips.  His own, someone else’s? 

He was home.  He let go, drifted. 

A shocking rush of cold air.  Voices.  Yelling.  He was torn away from that heat, that blood-heat.  He cried out.

The cool, astringent taste of the healing tank.  Up his nose, in his lungs.  They hadn’t bothered with a mask.  Must have been bad.  He floated again.

Months passed, years.  He coughed out a copper cloud, shifted his fingertips together - not ridged, not yet.  Need to sleep longer.  He slept. 

Vegeta jerked awake at the feel of a Saiyan ki flaring.  Eyes wide, blood rushing, he could see a glowing form through the tank’s distorted surface.  He smashed his palm against the emergency release button.  Fluid drained around him, leaving his limbs heavy and weak after their long weightlessness.  The tank’s glass hood raised to display a chaotic scene before him.  Kakarotto crouched before a shattered tank, glowering, a white-cold ball of ki in his hand.  An unfortunate med tech cowered nearby with a syringe. 

“Kakarotto!” Vegeta barked.  Kakarotto’s head snapped around, and the ki-filled hand followed suit.  Vegeta locked eyes with him and let his hands fall to his sides, fingers open, muscles loose.  “They healed you.  Power down.” 

“What is that?  Where are we?  It tried to give me a _needle_!”  Kakarotto’s voice swelled with approaching hysteria. 

Vegeta whipped around at the med tech.  “Get out.“

The weak creature scrambled to comply, hypo clattering to the flood behind it.  Vegeta picked it up and turned back to Kakarotto, who had lowered his hand and stood somewhat straighter.  He still looked challengingly at Vegeta - interesting.  Vegeta stepped closer and settled himself casually on a medical table to disguise the lingering weakness in his legs.  At the cold touch of the metal surface he realised he was unclothed.  He looked steadily at Kakarotto and held up the hypo. 

“This is to halt the effects of the healing tank.  You’ve been soaking in a solution of synthetic Saiyan DNA.  If you don’t halt the healing process it can cause mutations.” 

Kakarotto grimaced at Vegeta’s hand holding the syringe. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but nobody’s giving me a needle.”

Vegeta fought the urge to hit him.  He inhaled and loosened his carriage again. 

“Look.  You don’t want your organs on the outside.  I _need_ you.  Watch me closely and you’ll see it’s not harmful.”  Vegeta uncapped the hypo and held it up to the cold lights overhead.  Kakarotto reluctantly drew closer, lip captured between sharp teeth.  Vegeta watched him sidelong while securing a cord around his own arm one-handed and placing the sharp metal against a vein. 

“Look at me.” 

Kakarotto jumped.  Satisfying.  Vegeta held his eyes as he slid the metal through his skin and halted the remedial permutation’s progress. 

“Now - I’ve used it on myself so you can see it’s harmless.  You can use one yourself or you can let me do it - I’ve already injected you once.  Those are your choices.” 

Kakarotto thrust his chin at Vegeta. 

“Or else what?” 

“Else I beat you into the ground again and do it anyway,” snapped Vegeta.  He crushed the fragile glass in his fingers and let it fall, standing up to locate a replacement battle suit. 

Kakarotto was silent while he rummaged through medical storage cupboards, only moving when Vegeta threw a suit and a shoulder-less third grade breastplate at him. 

“Where are my clothes?”

“Destroyed.  They were unsalvageable.” 

Another silence.  “I don’t want to wear these.”

“Then don’t.” Vegeta looked him up and down, curling his lip.  Kakarotto put them on.  Vegeta picked up a new syringe and held it out to him.  “Your choice, now.”

Kakarotto gulped, eyes wide. 

“I… no.”  Vegeta advanced with a snarl, and Kakarotto raised his hands in surrender.  “No! I mean, you do it.  You know how, so…”

Vegeta sighed and grasped his elbow roughly, tying the cord around his upper arm bruisingly tight.  He put the bladed point of the hypo to Kakarotto’s skin, at the thinnest point of the inner elbow, and stopped.

“Oi.”  Kakarotto’s breath was heaving as he stared at the device.  Vegeta slapped him, gently for a Saiyan but enough to sting.  Kakarotto’s wide eyes slid to his as Vegeta expertly pushed the tip home, then smoothed the skin with a thumb to dissipate the chemical solution. 

“That’s it.  We’re done.”

“You… You’re bleeding.”  Kakarotto’s lips were parted, eyes on Vegeta’s fingers.  The shattered glass on the floor glinted. 

“So?”  Vegeta pivoted, suddenly furious, and yanked his gloves on.  He left his back exposed to the other Saiyan as he pulled his own elite grade armour over his head and settled it over his fresh battle suit.  His voice was brusque over his shoulder. 

“To answer your earlier question, we’re in a galactic recon facility designed to support fighting class beings on missions.  The network answers to Frieza, but remotely. No one else visits this station.” 

Kakarotto’s voice was low and quiet behind him. 

“Why did you take me with you?”

Vegeta did turn then, and allowed a smirk to play about his mouth.  “You heard me on Earth.  I put you in the dirt, third class.  You’re mine now, and if you want to live to see your Earth again, you’ll do as your Prince requires.”

Kakarotto’s face hardened.  “Krillin.  Did you kill him?”

“No,” Vegeta snorted.  “Follow me.”

Kakarotto didn’t move.

“Well, _I_ am going to eat whatever gods-forsaken garbage that passes for rations on this station.”

The word ‘eat’ perked Kakarotto up immediately. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all so much for the warm welcome for the first chapter - I honestly thought this would fly under the radar completely. ♡  
> I've long been of the opinion that Vegeta actually did win that first fight with Goku, when you look at it one on one. It was only the successive attacks of Gohan, Krillin and Yajirobe that caused his eventual defeat. So the canon change that sparks this fic is just that Vegeta has taken Goku with him as a prize, and therefore his attitude towards Goku is a bit less hateful, as Vegeta doesn't consider himself to have lost to him.
> 
> * * *

Vegeta pushed through the medbay door, ignoring Kakarotto’s wary glare at the cowering med tech as he trailed him. 

“You’ll find the healing tank has drained your energy reserves to repair your body, so you should eat as much as you can.  You’re a Saiyan so the power level boost that will follow will need to be compensated for.”  He stopped to plant a gloved finger in Kakarotto’s chest. 

“Don’t get any stupid ideas.  I have powered up exponentially more.  Cooperate and you’ll be treated as befits your rank.” 

Vegeta strode through a maze of windowless corridors, following the blue glyphs regularly spaced along the walls.  Finally, he picked up the scent of roasted meat and overripe fruits, and nudged Kakarotto’s shoulder with his own. 

“There,” he indicated with a jerk of his head.  “Go feed.  Or do I have to do that for you too?”

Kakarotto needed no further urging and darted through the doors into the service area.  The drudges had clearly been alerted to the Saiyans’ impending arrival and had prepared enough food for 20 lesser beings before retreating safely out of sight.  Kakarotto fell upon the nearest platter, grasping an exposed bone and tearing at the flesh with his canines, juices shining on his lips.  Vegeta removed one pristine glove to follow suit, daintily but with no less urgency.

For a time the two ate in silence, concentrating on sating their bodies’ demands.  Eventually, Kakarotto sighed and looked up from a bulbous purple fruit.

“What are you watching me for?”

Vegeta leered and popped the last berry between teeth.  He hadn’t realised he’d been staring at the strange new Saiyan.  Swallowing, he countered with a question of his own.

“Why can I feel your presence?”

Kakarotto shrugged.

“I thought everyone could sense ki.  I was surprised _you_ couldn’t.”

Vegeta’s hackles raised at the third class’s insolence.  What had changed to bring on this ability?  Maybe in the pod’s close quarters… He could only remember a haze of pain, burning blood and Saiyan scent.  The other Saiyan’s flare of power had awoken him, not by sight or sound but a creeping warmth on his skin.  Could he use this new skill to his advantage?

Vegeta dabbled his fingertips in a plain but delicately crafted ewer of scented water and dried them on a cloth.  He could feel Kakarotto’s power rising steadily now, without the aid of his scouter, and his own power too.  Odd.  Vegeta stared at Kakarotto for a moment and compared the warmth of his own ki bubbling through his skin, uncontainable, Kakarotto’s reaching across the small divide to flicker against it. 

“How did you hide your power from our scouters on Earth if I can feel you without one now?”

“Oh, that.”  Kakarotto grinned at his Prince - the cheek of him.  “You just have to pull it in close, small and quiet like this.”  The fluttering warmth retreated, leaving a chilly absence. 

Vegeta stared - suddenly it was as if he was alone in the service area, no other presence at all - except for the tall figure rising from its seat to approach. 

“See?  Yours is leaking out all over the place right now.  It’s pretty handy, just takes some practice.”  His hand reached towards Vegeta’s shoulder, touching the overflowing strength and causing it and Vegeta to jerk away. 

“Don’t touch me.  Go wash your hands; you’re disgusting.”

Kakarotto’s eyebrows rose but he complied, messily sloshing water across the table and using the finger cloth to wipe his face.  Such a strangely obedient follower, complying with the orders of his Prince yet showing no fear or deference.  It was… unbalancing. 

“Come.” 

Kakarotto fell in step beside him, as if he was an equal, and glanced around with a childish curiosity as Vegeta led him to his personal recovery quarters.  There was another like it on the far side of the complex but Vegeta didn’t trust Kakarotto out of his sight.  Probably start a fight and blow a fucking hole in the hull, and Vegeta had need of the fool’s unexpected power.  How could he have turned out to be so much stronger than his brother Raditz?  Vegeta suppressed a pang at the thought of the hulking Saiyan’s loss, witnessed in real-time over comms.  His voice came out as a rasp as they reached the door to his quarters. 

“In.”

The room hadn’t been touched since his last distress signal to the facility.  The station help didn’t dare pass the threshold to his territory.  Vegeta stalked past Kakarotto, who looked around the room with wide eyes, and grabbed an armful of old, bloodied bandages and a tattered battle suit.  He didn’t want to think about Frieza’s ‘mercy’ that had brought those bandages to be soaked through.  He thrust them through the doorway and closed it between him and that memory.  He keyed in the locking code, careful to shield it from Kakarotto with his body, but the taller Saiyan wasn’t looking.

“Don’t touch anything.”  Vegeta slapped a vial of Saiyan-strength stimulant from his hand, which fell to the floor and immediately rolled under the narrow bunk.  Vegeta ground the heel of his palm into his eyes, breathing out slowly through his nose.  He left it where it fell. 

“Sorry.”

The apology was a surprise.  It sounded genuine.  Vegeta glared at him through one eye. 

Kakarotto warily lowered himself to sit on the bed.  Vegeta felt his eyelid twitch but said nothing, choosing to let the ignorance of protocol slide in favour of rummaging in the wall’s slim storage space for a silver square of material the size of his palm.  At a touch it burst open into a field pallet, making Kakarotto flinch.  Allowing a smirk to bubble to the surface, he pushed Kakarotto unceremoniously to the ground. 

“That is yours.  It doesn’t look like much but it’s soft enough to sleep on without cutting off circulation.”  Vegeta flung himself down on his bunk. 

“But I’m not tired.” Kakarotto looked up at him, rolling from a sprawl to sit cross-legged on the pallet. 

“You are; your body just hasn’t realised it yet.  Time spent unconscious in the healing tank is strenuous - doesn’t provide rest.  I need you alert and capable.” 

“Why?”  Kakarotto tilted his head slightly, eyes roaming Vegeta’s sparse chamber once more. 

“Because.”  Vegeta glanced over at the comms panel in the wall next to him.  Its lights were dark.  “I told you before - I need you.  Though you’re just a third-class, as the last survivor of that caste you have a duty to your Prince.”  Vegeta considered the taller Saiyan positioned below him.  “You have the Saiyan lust for battle, despite having been robbed of your tail.”  His damaged spine shivered involuntarily.  I require you to add your power to mine in order to defeat a grotesquely powerful creature.

“It’s that strong?  Even stronger than you?”  Kakarotto sat up straight immediately. 

Vegeta was insulted yet strangely flattered.  A little.  He leaned forward on the bunk to loom over Kakarotto. 

“Yes.  He’s the beast that destroyed our race, our culture, our entire planet.”

Kakarotto’s face grew solemn but his eyes still gleamed up at him.  The fool had no idea of what Frieza was capable of.

“ _I_ sent Raditz to retrieve you, to bolster our capability.  And you killed him.”  A bitter breath, another.  “He died in battle, but we fucking _needed_ him.  Nappa, not so much.  His loyalties didn’t lay with his own kind.”  Vegeta checked the comms panel again - not transmitting.

 “So I came to retrieve you by force, use the dragon balls to gain immortality and destroy Frieza.  But Nappa killed the Namekian and fucked everything.”  His clenched fingers tore the sheets before he realised and he loosened them.  “So here we are.”  Vegeta glared at him.  “You took a Saiyan from me.  You’re bound to me thrice over.”

Kakarotto’s eyes slid from his to the floor. 

“He attacked us and kidnapped my son.  I didn’t know.  I… I’m sorry?”

“That was his mission, idiot.”  Vegeta snapped his consonants off tightly.  “Retrieve our people by any means necessary.”  He barked a voice command to dim the lights and lay back in the gloom of artificial dusk.  The true black of space with no windowed view of the stars was too smothering for most creatures’ sanity. 

“Go to sleep.  Tomorrow we depart for Namek.  The Namekian dragon balls are our last chance at freedom.” 

There was a long silence before he heard the rustle of Kakarotto’s clothing being thrown carelessly to the floor, followed by the clunk of armour.

“All right.”  His voice was quiet, thoughts indiscernible. 

Moments later, Vegeta realised with a flush of alarm that his ki had unfurled itself and was extending across the room towards Kakarotto’s.  Grunting, he flopped himself to face the wall and willed himself to stillness, ignoring the other Saiyan’s presence against his skin.  What had it been doing _before_ he was aware of it?  Fuck.  He lay fully clothed and armoured, down to his boots, and closed his eyes.  The unconsciousness of depleted reserves stole across him without warning. 


	3. Chapter 3

Vegeta was awakened with a jolt.  His hair rose at a whisper of movement.  Close.  Then, a whimper.

“Kakarotto.  Shut up.”

Kakarotto surged up from the pallet, gasping and shuddering. 

“No, what?  Where…”

Vegeta stretched a leaden arm towards him and fumbled for purchase in the gloom. 

“The tank causes nightmares.  It’s normal - you’re fine.”  He let his arm drop again once he was sure the other Saiyan was roused, and heaved himself onto his front.  Gods, the shoulder protectors were uncomfortable for sleep.  Vegeta mashed his face into the thin, standard issue pillow and controlled his breathing. 

Kakarotto continued to pant and tremble in the dark.  Finally Vegeta gave up on tuning him out. 

“Drowning?”  He _felt_ Kakarotto nod shakily in the darkness.  “It wasn’t real.  Listen to me and follow my lead.  Breathe in for two heartbeats.  Now breathe out for four...  No, like this.”

Vegeta breathed for him, in and out, listening to his rapid pulse, his breath, his presence.  Kakarotto’s warmth reached out to slide over him and he was powerless to repel it.  Their breathing slowed together and melted into a glowing blackness. 

Vegeta awoke slowly, gently.  The room’s lights gradually lightened into an artificial dawn and revealed Kakarotto’s face beneath him, eyes closed, lips parted.  Vegeta’s arm dangled down the side of the bunk towards him - completely numb.  Cursing, he sat up and tried to massage the offending limb back into painful life.  He started as Kakarotto spoke. 

“Will you let me go back to Earth after?  I need to see Gohan.”

Covering his startlement, Vegeta replied, “Once Frieza is dead and I am free, you may do as you like.  Until then, your life and that of your half-breed child are under threat.” Vegeta arose and nudged the crumpled battle suit on the floor towards Kakarotto with the toe of his boot. 

“We leave for Namek shortly.  Do you require any equipment?” 

Kakarotto glanced around helplessly.  “No?  But why are you being so nice to me, after hurting me so bad?” 

Vegeta snarled at him, lilting mockingly, “Why are you being so obedient? You seem to have recalled your place as a third class, despite yourself.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “I am your Prince, a fact you would do well to remember.  Now get the fuck up.  I’m going to piss.”  He slammed the door behind him and strode down the hall.  Why, indeed.

 

As expected, Kakarotto followed his nose to the service room where Vegeta was breaking his fast.  Vegeta acknowledged him with a look and returned his attention to the repulsively grovelling ship provisions officer. 

“I want it stocked with kit and rations for two Saiyans on extended reconnaissance.”  He glanced at Kakarotto who was happily stuffing his face with handfuls of sticky fruit pastries.  “Three Saiyans’ worth.  And I remind you, this mission’s secrecy is of the utmost importance to Lord Frieza.  Should any hint of it pass beyond this room, I _will_ return for you and your family.  Go, now.”

The creature’s mandibles clattered wetly as it scrambled out the service door.  Revolting.  Vegeta suddenly had no appetite.  He scowled at Kakarotto’s stare, a flake of pastry hanging from his lip.

“We leave as soon as you’re done.”

Kakarotto surveyed the platters before him and hurriedly set about demolishing them.  In short order he stood and turned to Vegeta, stuffing several cloth-wrapped delicacies down the front of his breastplate. 

“I’m ready.”  A grin spread across his face.  “Let’s go find these dragon balls.”

 

* * *

 

 

The ship was an older messenger model, quick but mundane to avoid unnecessary attention.  It had sufficient capacity for two occupants but Kakarotto’s habit of hovering close made his skin itch.  The looming Saiyan managed to make the cramped interior of a ship feel stifling in a way his brother never had.  Raditz knew how to be alone when crammed into the cramped quarters of a ship – and when to share companionship. 

Kakarotto, however, had obviously never experienced such confines and cared little for Vegeta’s signalled wish for solitude.  He wasn’t loud, but ostentatiously peered over Vegeta’s shoulder at every screen, asked questions about his strategising, and bounced on his toes with abundant energy. 

When Vegeta saw the glow of ki appear around Kakarotto two days into their journey, his irritation was engulfed by alarm.  He surged to his feet and pinned Kakarotto to the flimsy wall by his neck in one fluid shift. 

“ _Release it_ ,” Vegeta hissed, eyes wide with fury.  “We’re on a fucking ship.  It’s not shielded for this level of power, you idiot.  You’ll kill us both.”

Kakarotto’s ki flared higher against him as he struggled to relieve the crushing pressure of Vegeta’s forearm against his throat.  Vegeta removed his arm and grasped a fistful of Kakarotto’s hair instead, jerking his head back enough to arch his spine. 

“Okay, okay!” Kakarotto yowled, pupils dilated, mouth panting. His throat was displayed in a tight curve.

Vegeta glared at him a moment longer before releasing him and shoving him away.  His tail lashed violently – but it wasn’t there, and it fucking _hurt_. 

He stalked away, putting the door of the flight cabin between them as a flimsy barrier, and sat fuming. Kakarotto’s voice was muffled through the door.

“Sorry.”  His throat sounded sore.  Good.

“Try saying that to me when we’re in rapid decompression. Control yourself, you fool.” 

Vegeta watched his fingertips trembling uncontrollably.  He could feel the vacuum surrounding him, pulling his blood to his extremities and sucking the air from his lungs, Frieza’s grip relentless on the back of his neck. 

No.  His fingers weren’t swollen.  His tongue wasn’t bubbling from decompression.  He could still see and breathe.  Fucking pull yourself together.  He fished blindly for the narcotic in his armour’s inner pocket.  Chase it away.  It’s not here, not now.  Kill it, feel something else, anything else. 

Vegeta chewed the compressed bundle of stalks, fibrous and stringy against teeth made for ripping, bitterness spreading through his soul.  He sat on the steel floor with his back to the door for a long time.  Eventually he felt his ki rise – interesting – and he floated. 

At some point the surface behind him fell away and he drifted down to lay back against a warm body.  Kakarotto’s face came into view above him, looking odd for some reason – fear?  Pff.  Weakness.  Someone said something but it wasn’t important.  Vegeta couldn’t actually see his face – his eyes slid away from the other Saiyan’s, wandering instead around the bristles of hair against the flashing haloes of overhead lights. 

He could recognise that scent though – a younger, weaker Saiyan, but larger.  This clash of impressions was familiar and comforting.  There was no threat here.  Vegeta’s hands groped for Raditz even as he let go into the soft relief of blankness.


	4. Chapter 4

Kakarotto found him at the next artificial dawn cycle, perched on the hub room’s heating pump with feet drawn up under him, balancing a steaming distillation of analeptic herbs on his knees while plotting their course on reams of folded paper.  He spoke before Kakarotto had the chance.

“This was much easier when I had the use of my tail.”  He tilted his head toward the tincture.  “I’ve dipped these charts in it at least twice now.”

Kakarotto drew closer and peered down into the cup.

“Is it the stuff you ate last night?  I could smell it on your breath.”

“Ha, no.  This is harmless.  The other stuff, not so much.  Here.”  Vegeta absent-mindedly bundled papers under one arm to thrust the mug at Kakarotto, who sniffed it warily, then accepted it and took a sip.  He made a face but didn’t put the cup down.  Eventually he spoke again. 

“Are you sick?”

“No.”  Vegeta’s reply was terse, warning.  Kakarotto didn’t seem to notice. 

“I didn’t know what was wrong with you.  Why did you zone out all of a sudden?  I felt it.” 

“Because it felt good,” Vegeta stared him down relentlessly, “and I wanted to.”

He snagged the cup back from Kakarotto and drained the remainder, leaves and all.  Grimacing, he swung his legs down and pushed past him to stuff the charts haphazardly in a compartment before continuing to deposit the cup in the hole-in-the-wall kitchenette. 

“Well, I am sorry.  For powering up, I mean.”

Vegeta shrugged at him and threw himself down in the more comfortable chair available to them.  Kakarotto took the other and continued.

“I only wanted to see if my power had increased since... Since we fought.  There hasn’t been anything to do on this ship! I couldn’t help it.”

Vegeta sighed, staring through the keyhole window of the kitchenette at the stars flashing by.  Space _was_ boring. 

“But while you were asleep I thought of something.”

Vegeta arched an eyebrow at him, as if to say, ‘You?’  Kakarotto didn’t seem to notice. 

“I know how we can use our power on this ship – we can even leave the ship.  It’s only mentally though, but it’s good for training.”

Vegeta stared at him. 

“Is this related to suppressing your ki?”

Kakarotto shrugged a shoulder.

“No, not really - you just have to turn your mind to the other person’s and concentrate - but I can help with your ki suppression in the mind meld too.”

“Do so then.  I can’t know what will face us on Namek but, as you know, that ability can infer a considerable tactical advantage.”  Vegeta looked up.  “And I can use my power here, you say?”  Against his volition, his Saiyan blood quickened at the thought. 

Kakarotto gulped, suddenly looking apprehensive.  “Not full power though.  Not all out, just…”

Vegeta smirked and rose from his seat to lean his face down into Kakarotto’s.

“Your full power will be no problem.  If you want me to hold back for your sake, well…”

Kakarotto smiled and shrugged slightly.

“Just not keen on facing another Oozaru just yet.”

Vegeta barked a laugh and straightened, pressing fingers to Kakarotto’s wrist.

“I’m not particularly fond of that form anyway.  Show me later.  I wish to bathe now.”

Vegeta walked away cursing himself.  Kakarotto knew nothing of Saiyans.  Vegeta felt an odd slash of fear at the thought that he was the only one left who knew what three fingers to the wrist signified.

 

* * *

 

The bathing facilities were ‘functional’, as a ship’s merchant would term them, but hardly sufficient for two Saiyans.  Kakarotto had obviously not had the wisdom to ration the heated water supply, and Vegeta was cursing and shivering by the end of his increasingly icy bathing.  He hurriedly scrubbed his chattering teeth and squeezed the first crackles of frost from his hair, leaving it laying heavy down his back. 

He wrapped himself in thin terrycloth and darted from the cold tiling, huddling atop the heating pump once more.  He waited there until feeling returned to his fingers before dashing to the kitchenette for another stimulant brew to wrap his hands around.  Space was fucking _cold_ outside cryosleep.  He hated being cold - he was a creature of red sun and baking sands. 

Kakarotto appeared in the doorway as Vegeta was folding himself up small again, his towel covering him from his chin to his feet tucked underneath him.  Before Vegeta could rebuke him for his carelessness, Kakarotto opened his mouth.

“Can I have one of those?”

Vegeta’s lips twitched.  He didn’t mean the towel, surely.

“I thought you had no taste for it.”

“I’m a bit cold…”

Vegeta wordlessly handed Kakarotto his cup and went to prepare yet another.  He watched Kakarotto gulp the hot liquid, wrinkling his nose at the taste. 

“Not so fast.  It’s strong, and your body’s not used to it.”

“You drink it, so I should be fine, right?”  He jerked his chin out at his prince ebulliently.

Vegeta chose not to reply, instead retrieving his clothing from his sleeping chamber and putting it on.  His hair was still freezing against his back but was starting to resist the weight of the water.  He resumed his perch on the warm metal pump to sip his concoction. 

Again Kakarotto was the one to break the silence.

“I was thinking – I’d like to let Gohan and Chichi know I’m okay…”

Vegeta chewed his thumbnail.  There was that deference again.  Kakarotto seemed to know his station now, but not obsequiously so – it was as if he was unconsciously reacting to Vegeta somehow.  

“There would be no harm in it,” Vegeta admitted, “If it weren’t for Frieza.  If he detects a transmission from this ship, if he makes planetfall and assembles the Namek dragon balls before I can, then we’re finished.  All of us.”  At Kakarotto’s crestfallen face he added, “Besides, I don’t have any way to establish a new communication line.  Earthling tech is probably too primitive to manage it anyway.”

Kakarotto nodded, still a little downcast but accepting Vegeta’s decision as if he’d expected him to say as much.  Vegeta reached above his head and pulled a handful of dried and salted meat sticks from a cubby.  He chewed on several before handing the last one to Kakarotto.

Kakarotto sniffed the dried meat and immediately filled his mouth with it.  He spoke to Vegeta with his mouth crammed full.

“That drink was horrible, but it makes me excited to fight.” A silly grin broke across his face and he swallowed and rubbed his arms.  “Can we try the mind meld now?” 

Vegeta shrugged, suddenly reluctant.  The stim seemed to have a stronger, more immediate effect on the younger Saiyan.  Maybe because it wasn’t offsetting a narcotic, he mused.  Vegeta downed the rest of the mug’s contents, narrowly avoiding a scorched tongue but enjoying the warmth spreading through his belly.

“As you wish.  What must I do?”

Kakarotto set down his mug, carelessly sloshing the dregs, and looked around with childish enthusiasm.

“Here!”  He grabbed Vegeta’s gloved wrist and pulled him towards Kakarotto’s sleeping chamber.  He then threw himself cross-legged on the bed with a bounce and a squeal of springs, and Vegeta followed suit warily. 

“It’s just that sometimes your legs can go numb, and it’s so cold already.”  Kakarotto had the presence of mind to look a little sheepish.  Vegeta said nothing but surreptitiously tucked his feet into a fold of the tousled bed coverings, wishing he could draw the blankets around his shoulders instead. 

“So first you have to pay attention to me.”

“I am.”

“No, you’ve gotta really feel my presence, and I have to feel yours. Don’t think about anything else.  Oh, and close your eyes.”

Vegeta glared at him.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Kakarotto’s smile tugged at his lips, eyes already closed.  Vegeta could feel the tickling warmth of Kakarotto reaching through the cold, and he huffed to himself and shifted his weight to mirror Kakarotto’s position.  He held himself back from chasing the presence with his own and instead just concentrated on it.  Its shape, its disposition, its scent.

“That’s right, follow me,” Kakarotto murmured.  Vegeta’s ki recoiled as he realised he had stretched it out, but he lunged forward again clumsily, entangling his ki with Kakarotto’s.  The awareness of him returned in full force, and he opened his eyes at Kakarotto’s gasp.

“What did I do?”

“It’s fine,” Kakarotto’s smile was small, eyes wide.  “It’s just - I haven’t done this with a Saiyan before.  You’re the same as me.”  A breathy laugh of wonderment escaped him.

Vegeta’s face felt warm. 

“This is absurd,” he huffed.  He jerked his recalcitrant ki back again and went to stand.  Kakarotto’s hand shot out to graze his wrist with four fingers.  Vegeta forgot about the cold as his face suddenly blazed like a furnace, mouth dropping open before he managed to close it with a snap.  Kakarotto was speaking.

“No, come back.  Do it again - you’ve almost got it.”

Pulse hammering, Vegeta remained, stiff-shouldered with the certainty that Kakarotto could hear his heart.  He felt Kakarotto’s ki brush against his again, gently, awaiting his response.  It took another two tries, but abruptly he could feel Kakarotto all around him, inside him, see him behind his closed eyelids.  He could smell and taste him, see through his eyes, feel the clothes against his skin.

“That’s it, you’ve done it.  Just back up a bit for some space.” 

Vegeta’s doubled senses faded and left him adrift.  He concentrated on Kakarotto again and steadied.  Kakarotto’s eyes were strangely piercing on Vegeta’s, and he swallowed before speaking.

“This,” he indicated with a wave at the surrounding blackness, “is a place we can visit with our minds.  It’s kind of in both our heads at once, but you can change the location if you think about it.”  The blackness slowly lightened into daylight and a grassy clearing, trees and a sighing breeze. 

Vegeta stared.  He could taste the flowers in the air. 

“Can it be anywhere?”  He forged ahead before Kakarotto could respond.  The green faded to hot sand, the wind slow and warm enough to reach his bones. 

“This…” Vegeta swallowed.  “This was our planet.  Before he took it from us.”

Kakarotto turned in a circle, taking in the distant mountains and gnarled vegetation. 

“Wow… Is this where you lived?”

“For a short time.”  Vegeta caught movement in the corner of his eye, then choked back a cry. 

Raditz.  It was Raditz.  He stumbled towards the towering Saiyan, legs weak.  His face, his hair, the bonds he’d bestowed on him - all so real.  Vegeta reached for Raditz’s arms and grasped nothing but air.  He was gone.  A low cry tore itself from him and he whirled, scanning frantically.  Only Kakarotto remained.

“This place is just memories.  You can’t bring other people here.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Vegeta snarled.  “Get out.  Take me back _now_.”  


Moments later he felt Kakarotto withdraw from him, and Vegeta curled within himself, inspecting the cold emptiness inside that matched the void around the ship.  Kakarotto stood and moved to Vegeta’s side, standing over him.  He didn’t like that.

“Fuck off.”

Kakarotto didn’t.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he snapped.  “Go away.”  He chose to ignore the fact that it was Kakarotto’s bed he was burrowing into.  He heard a shift of clothing as Kakarotto lowered himself to the ground.  A more befitting level.  They sat in silence for a time, Vegeta listening to his breathing and thinking of nothing.

“You loved him, huh?”

Vegeta didn’t bother to answer.  _Raditz._

Kakarotto took his hand without warning, and Vegeta lifted his head from his knees in surprise.  Kakarotto was crouched on the floor in a half-kneel, both hands holding Vegeta’s left, his head bowed almost to the mattress.

“Vegeta.  I’m so sorry.”

To think Kakarotto had seen that much in his head… Vegeta’s fingers twitched.  He stared down at the other Saiyan’s head, and eventually placed his other hand on the soft hair and left it there. 

“It was battle.  You fought well - and died for it.  You should take pride in it.”  _Raditz.  I’m sorry I sent you into that._

Kakarotto’s head silently shook from side to side under his hand.  They remained in that tableau for a short while before Vegeta tousled his hair roughly and arose from his position.  He spoke over his shoulder as he exited.

“You will show me again tomorrow.”  _And show me how to keep this fucking ki to myself_ , he added silently.  He strode to his own bedchamber, aura sweeping out in a wake behind him.  He wanted to be alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many feels in this chapter.

Vegeta spent the next several days training with Kakarotto.  It was disconcerting to at first be cut and bloodied by battle, but then to open one’s eyes and be completely unharmed. He craved those injuries - allowed Kakarotto to land heavy blows they both knew he could have dodged entirely.  The imagined blood in his mouth had the same effect on him as if it was real, and he relished the resurgence of his battle-lust.  He could feel it when Kakarotto became similarly affected, but the other Saiyan seemed less savagely violent in its grip.

Eventually Vegeta snapped in frustration.

“Fight me! Stop fucking around and hurt me, Kakarotto, or I will do it to you instead.”

Kakarotto looked startled, as if he actually didn’t understand what this was all about, why they were fighting at all.  Vegeta scowled and planted his fist into the side of Kakarotto’s head, sending him hurtling to the ground.  He caught him by the neck of his gi just before he impacted - Kakarotto had reverted to his Earth clothing in this strange place.  His eyes glared rebelliously up at Vegeta. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Not your choice,” Vegeta ground out.  His skin began to radiate blue-hot energy.  He focused it into his fist and smashed it under Kakarotto’s ribcage.  The breath left him with a thump of emptied lungs and glazing eyes.  Vegeta dropped his body to lay gasping in the grass, crouched beside him, and slapped him hard across the face.

“You want me to keep doing that?  Fucking pathetic third-class.”

Kakarotto surged to his feet with a roar and barrelled into Vegeta, the top of his head smashing into Vegeta’s face.  Vegeta heard the crunch of his nose breaking, and sparks flew behind his eyes.  They both landed in the dirt.  Convulsed with laughter, Vegeta sat up and huffed out past the blood spilling from his nose. 

“That’s more like it.  You will learn what it is to be _Saiyan_ , third-class.” 

Kakarotto’s throat rumbled a warning.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise you had the guts to growl at your Prince.”

Kakarotto threw a clumsy punch that Vegeta deflected effortlessly.

“Stop calling me third-class!  My name is Goku!”

Vegeta pounced on him, snarling down into his face, hand pressing his throat into the ground in unwilling submission.

“I will _never_ call you that.  Those that gave it to you mutilated your body for their own comfort - yours and mine.  You are Kakarotto, and you are a Saiyan.”

A spatter of Vegeta’s blood onto Kakarotto’s cheek punctuated his words, and he followed it with his gloved fist.  Kakarotto howled in outrage and used his bulk to flip Vegeta off him, pinning him to the ground.  He straddled his hips and drove his fists into Vegeta’s face - twice, thrice, again.  Vegeta’s hands clasped Kakarotto’s gi to pull him closer, but Kakarotto stopped. 

Vegeta could barely see.

“Was that so hard?”  Vegeta laughed up at the look on Kakarotto’s face, then choked on the blood running down his throat, misting Kakarotto’s face with tiny flecks.  Kakarotto didn’t flinch, to his credit; merely wiped his face with one arm and leaned his weight heavier on him to pin him more securely.  He sniffed the air suspiciously.

“You eat that stuff again?”

Vegeta, still chuckling, spat out, “Not that.  Has nothing to do with it.  Fucking fight me properly, Kakarotto.  Keep going.”  He struggled to rise but Kakarotto fought him back.  Vegeta’s flailing hands were pushed against his sides and Kakarotto was growling again, louder this time. His weight pinned Vegeta down and made it hard to breathe.  He realised Kakarotto was shouting.

“Stay the hell down, Vegeta!”

He surged up and slammed his head into Kakarotto’s with a burst of pain and darkness.

The world slid sideways in the blackness.  Why couldn’t he move?  Something on him - someone, a Saiyan.  Kakarotto? 

No, it was Raditz.  He could remember this feeling, his scent.  He tasted like blood - Vegeta’s and someone else’s.  Vegeta pushed against him with a snarl, teeth snapping as he bit off his words. 

“Get off, Raditz.”

Raditz only smirked silently at him and brought his hand to the side of Vegeta’s head, weight and height making it effortless to keep him still.  His hair tumbled down in a veil around them both.  Raditz grabbed a rough fistful of Vegeta’s hair and pulled his head back, grazing his exposed throat with lips and teeth. 

Vegeta’s body blazed with lust - but he wasn’t going to let Raditz lead, not with his blood up like this.  He stretched up to kiss him, using the distraction to reach for Raditz’s vulnerable tail.  He couldn’t find it.  His fingers searched, swept under cloth and across smooth skin to find scar tissue, and the Saiyan above him moaned into his mouth helplessly.  Not Raditz.  Not quite.

The memory faded into the darkness and left only Kakarotto, still somehow pinning him down but looking dazed and almost frenzied, with Vegeta’s blood on his lips. 

Vegeta was incandescent.  He shoved the unresisting Saiyan off him and wrenched his mind from Kakarotto’s.  He came back to his body sitting cross-legged on the bed where he’d left it - almost.  He had allowed his forehead to rest against Kakarotto’s, panting against his mouth.  Kakarotto opened his eyes and Vegeta threw his fist between them as hard as he could.  Kakarotto fell backward, stunned.  Vegeta rose to his knees and hit him again.  He thrust his face into Kakarotto’s, who raised his hands in supplication.

“Vegeta…”  Kakarotto had blood on his teeth - real this time.  He had to taste it - needed to.  He cut off whatever Kakarotto was trying to say. 

“Nngah.”  Vegeta drew back with a shallow breath.  He tasted... amazing.  “That was not yours to see, Kakarotto,” he growled down at him. 

Kakarotto nodded helplessly, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.  Vegeta tore his gaze away, wordlessly jabbing Kakarotto in the chest with a stiff finger before removing himself from the room, ki wrapped tightly around himself.  He almost hoped the ship was out of hot water again.  His blood was scalding.

 

* * *

 

By unspoken agreement neither spoke of the fight, but Kakarotto stopped holding back, and Vegeta no longer had to throw himself into his attacks.  Vegeta decided he was satisfied with that.  Kakarotto gave as good as he got, and if Vegeta noticed his occasional puzzled glances, he only sneered and moved faster, making Kakarotto have to work to even connect with him.  Much better.

Even so, back on the ship his real body buzzed with pent-up energy, and mindless repetitive movements like pull-ups against the engine room pipes only helped so much.  Kakarotto was similarly crawling out of his skin, and it was a relief when their ship finally entered Namek’s atmosphere a several days later.

Vegeta guided the craft to skim the surface of the strange, watery planet, looking for an inconspicuous place to make landfall.  He singled out a small canyon between cracked cliff faces, and after landing shuttled the small ship underneath a rocky overhang.  Kakarotto needed no urging to immediately follow Vegeta out into the green light.  The air was humid with a salty tang to it. 

Vegeta shaded his eyes and looked north - or what he assumed could be taken for north on a planet with three suns.  Both Saiyans had been careful to hide their ki in case of hostiles with scouters, but the area seemed deserted. 

“Do you sense anyone?”

Kakarotto pointed in the same direction Vegeta was looking.

“At least 10, that way, and some more further away.  They don’t feel like fighters.”

Vegeta smirked, pleased with himself.

“As I thought.  But before we ‘introduce’ ourselves... I want food.  Meat.”

Kakarotto whooped like a child and dashed toward the nearby shoreline, unabashedly pulling off his armour, gloves and boots as he went.  Vegeta turned away as the battlesuit followed.  That scarred tissue on his back - how _dare_ they…  He ducked back into the ship to retrieve portions of dried grains and herbs from the ship’s stores to accompany  whatever unfortunate creature Kakarotto managed to find.  As he was rehydrating the grains in hot water, Vegeta turned at the sound of a massive commotion in the water, and started laughing. 

Kakarotto strode jauntily out of the water, buck naked, a titanic crab carried upside down in one hand over his head.  Vegeta fought to keep the mirth from his voice.

“Kakarotto.  It’s the size of the ship.  We can’t possibly eat all of that.  Go put it back where you found it.”

Kakarotto pouted slightly but did as he was told, tossing the thrashing monster crustacean carelessly over his shoulder and out to sea.  Vegeta couldn’t help himself - he laughed again when the crab plopped into the ocean with a crash of spray. 

Kakarotto grinned happily at him.

“I guess I got a bit excited about such a big mama crab.  I’ll go find the big fish I saw…”

“Not if it’s as big as that thing,” Vegeta called after his retreating back.  He shook his head at the younger Saiyan’s impetuosity.

Kakarotto returned with the fish in short order and threw it onto the grass in front of Vegeta proudly.  Vegeta was forced to hastily grab the other Saiyan’s arm and lower it before Kakarotto could blast the creature.

“No ki - remember we’re not supposed to be here.”

Recognition dawned in Kakarotto’s eyes and he stepped back.

“Oh yeah.  Raw is fine too.  I used to catch fish like this one back home, just stuck my tail in the water and waited for them to bite.”

“Really?  That’s disgusting.”  Vegeta shuddered.

“A little,” Kakarotto laughed.

As Kakarotto re-dressed Vegeta sliced the flesh from the creature and stacked the slabs atop bowls of hot grain.  Vegeta handed him one and the two baked in the suns’ light as they ate.

Vegeta turned slightly towards Kakarotto but didn’t look him in the eyes, aimlessly stirring the food in his bowl instead.

“Kakarotto.”

“Mm?”  He looked up, mouth full.

“When did the earthlings cut you… Take your tail away from you.”

Kakarotto hummed and swallowed his mouthful.

“I’m not sure.  I don’t really remember; I think I just woke up without it.  I could barely stand.”

“How old were you?”  Vegeta’s voice was low.

“I don’t know.  Pretty young.  I remember I was really upset.”

Vegeta swelled to his feet, struggling to keep his ki under control.  He kicked savagely at a tuft of grass, stalked away a few paces and returned.  A bubble of power was rising in his chest and it would _not_ go down again.  He leaned down to hiss at Kakarotto, who was watching him with his spoon in his mouth.

“They should _not_ have done that to you, Kakarotto.  That was evil.  A child, by the gods.”  He threw himself on the grass next to Kakarotto, fuming.

“It’s okay, Vegeta, it doesn’t hurt.”  Kakarotto mumbled around his spoon. 

“Oh, it does.  You have no idea what they took from you.”  Vegeta snatched up his bowl of food and filled his mouth.  That furious bubble was still there, rising into his throat to choke him.  He couldn’t swallow enough to breathe past it - until Kakarotto leaned his shoulder into him, looking ahead, still eating.

Vegeta couldn’t move.  Eventually warmth reached its fingers through their battlesuits and the straining bubble of fury began to weaken, deflating like it had been pricked.  Vegeta just stared into his empty bowl, fingers lax around the spoon, and felt deeply saddened.  Neither of them were whole.  As Kakarotto had said before, they were the same creature.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay on this chapter, midterms.

Vegeta crouched in the dirt with Kakarotto and peered down into a valley at a tiny village of strange construction.  Green-skinned figures came and went, some tending to rows of seedlings, others fetching water or weaving cloth.  Peaceable commoners – no threat.  

Vegeta arose and approached the Namekians, not bothering to see whether Kakarotto followed.  He strode up to the closest one, a tall, thin creature in a white robe.  It dropped its bucket in surprise at the sight of him.  Vegeta stopped within arm’s reach of it.

“Do you understand my speech?”  He demanded.

The creature’s mouth dropped open, gaping.  “Y… Yes, I understand you.  What…”

Vegeta cut it off brusquely.  

“I require your species’ dragon balls.  You know of them, yes?  Take me to them, now.”

The Namekian shook its head fearfully and started to back away.  Vegeta drew back his arm for a killing backhand blow.

Kakarotto flashed in front of him.

“What are you doing?”  He said in an undertone, crushing Vegeta’s hand in his.  The Namekian took the opportunity to flee.  

“What do you think?”  Vegeta hissed back.  “If they won’t cooperate, they die.”

Kakarotto drew back aghast.  

“Vegeta! You’re not purging for Frieza anymore.  If you try to hurt them, I’ll stop you.” 

Vegeta stared him down scornfully.  “You can _try_ …”

Kakarotto planted his feet and widened his stance, face stony.  Vegeta flung his hands up in mock surrender.  

“Do as you will.  But Kakarotto,” his tone lowered in warning, “if you’re unsuccessful, I tell you now I won’t let anything get in the way of this.  You understand?”

Kakarotto nodded slowly.  Vegeta folded his arms and turned away, leaving Kakarotto to approach the apprehensive green villagers.  His curiosity got the better of him and he cocked an ear towards them.

“Hello!  I’m sorry about my friend.  He… He’s had a hard life.”

Vegeta’s ears burned as he stalked away, and he missed the next exchange.  Kakarotto followed the Namekians into the largest structure at the centre of the village and Vegeta settled on a sun-warmed boulder to wait unhappily.  He scanned the skies periodically – how to know if they had been followed? – but they remained clear.  For now.

The suns had shifted markedly in the sky by the time Kakarotto returned - with no dragon balls in tow.  Vegeta stood and dusted his battle suit with his gloves.  

“As I expected, a waste of time.  If you’ll excuse me, I have some sapients to…”  He trailed off as a tiny green child shuffled shyly from behind Kakarotto.  

“Dende, this is Vegeta.  Vegeta, Dende.”  Kakarotto leaned forward for a conspiratorial yet clearly audible whisper.  “He’s going to take us to their Grand Elder to ask permission to gather the dragon balls.”

“H-hello,” Dende piped, clutching at Kakarotto’s leg.  Vegeta looked him up and down – mostly down – and gave him a small nod of dismissal.  

“How long is this going to take?”  He turned back to Kakarotto.  “I don’t know how much time we have.  This is more important than pleasantries.  If we were found out…”

Dende grabbed his robes in his fists and twisted them from side to side.  

“Dai-Chourou’s house is only a little way from here.  He protects the four-star dragon ball and is very ancient and wise.  He can help you.”

“All right then,” Kakarotto crowed.  “We’re going to go fast, so hang on!”  He swung the child onto his shoulder and steadied him with a brawny arm.  Dende clung to it, alarmed and breathless.  

“Uh, ah, that way!” A finger emerged from his oversized robes and pointed west.  

Kakarotto saluted smartly and turned with a click of his heels.  

“Yes, sir!”  He started off at a sprint across the blue-green hills, Dende waving with frantic exhilaration to the muttering villagers.  Vegeta sighed, bemused and annoyed by Kakarotto’s absurdity, and followed.

They ran for close to an hour, gentle exercise for well rested Saiyans – jumping up embankments and leaping across rivers.  Vegeta noticed Kakarotto subtly trying to leap higher and further, and grinned at his spirit – whether conscious or not.

Eventually Kakarotto obscured himself behind a tall rock formation to relieve himself, leaving Vegeta to take charge of the child.  

“Come on, green bean.”  Vegeta held out his hand.  Dende paused and silently mouthed, “ _Green bean?”_  but allowed himself to be gingerly lifted to Vegeta’s shoulder.  Vegeta didn’t bother waiting for Kakarotto, holding a finger to his lips to warn the child.  Dende giggled and held on, antennae streaming as Vegeta tore across the landscape, sure and silent, footsteps light.  

_Just let him try and catch me._

A short time later a structure came into view on the horizon.  Hundreds of metres later Dende crowed and stretched out an arm.

“There! That’s Dai-Chourou’s place.”

Vegeta adjusted his course, risking a tiny flare of ki to guide Kakarotto, who was surely close behind.  He stopped a short distance from the insect-like structure, breathing lightly, and turned his head as a tall Namekian showed himself through an entryway.  Vegeta’s eyes narrowed – this one was different, a fighting class.  He clamped down on the instinct to engage and checked his ki was still under control.  The creature was too weak to pose any serious threat.  

“Nail!” Dende wriggled from Vegeta’s grasp and ran to the fighter, throwing his arms around a leg and peering up at him.  

Nail’s eyes never wavered from Vegeta.  

“Who are you and what are you doing here with Dende?”

Vegeta sneered at him, but Dende answered first.

“It’s okay Nail, they didn’t hurt me.  They’re here to talk to Dai-Chourou.”

“They?”

Kakarotto chose that moment to emerge from behind a tree.  

“No fair, Vegeta, you can’t run off while I pee!” 

Dende giggled.  Vegeta smirked inwardly but otherwise ignored his approach, eyes locked with Nail’s in clear warning.  Kakarotto was oblivious.  

“Oh wow, you look just like Piccolo! Do you know him?  Or, well, what about someone named Majunior or Kami? Wait, those probably aren’t their original names…”

“Nail,” Dende’s voice piped through Kakarotto’s.  “They’re here to ask for Dai-Chourou’s permission to use the dragon balls.”  He gestured to Kakarotto.  “Goku said on their planet they have dragon balls too, and there are two Namekians as well.”

Nail’s hot eyes moved from Vegeta’s to look Kakarotto up and down insultingly slowly.  Finally, he spoke.

“You may enter into the presence of the Great Elder.” 

Kakarotto gave a wide smile and stepped through the portal entrance, but Nail blocked it with his body at Vegeta’s approach.

“Not you.  You stink of death, Saiyan.” 

Vegeta’s fingers twitched.  

“You want me to show you?”  He bared his teeth.  The creature had _no idea_ of the blood on his hands.  Vegeta shook with the effort of suppressing his power.  He wanted to slaughter the arrogant Namekian.  It would be nothing – like crushing an insect.  The building was flimsy.  Kakarotto would be fine.  No.  The sprout was in there and hadn’t done anything to deserve a sudden death – not yet.  

 _Shut up_ , he snarled at himself.  _Shut the fuck up and you’ll get what you want._   He clenched his fists to force his energy to dissipate, and held his body stiff and still until Nail finally turned and followed Kakarotto and Dende into the domicile.  Vegeta could wait a little longer.  The dragon balls were almost within his reach.  


	7. Chapter 7

Vegeta put his back to the outer wall of the Namekian structure and tucked a foot up against it, trying to focus on breath control.  Fucking insects.  Two in, three out.  He’d never been good at this shit - then again, neither was his excuse for a teacher.  Nappa had tried to teach it to Raditz too but he’d never given enough of a shit to use it in the first place.  Vegeta could see that particular familial trait in Kakarotto as well, but where Raditz was full of careless savage humour, Kakarotto was oddly carefree and guileless.  Vegeta asked himself for the fifth time that day how Kakarotto had hijacked this mission, and why Vegeta was letting him.  Being around another Saiyan survivor after so long, and one with such un-Saiyan-like mannerisms, was… unexpectedly flustering.  

The green haze of the suns overhead wove fingers of warmth through his hair and conspired with the heated wall at his back to draw his eyes closed.  He resisted the seeping comfort.  Kakarotto had been in there for a good while now.  Even his Saiyan hearing could only detect a murmur of voices.  The building had probably been constructed with an acoustics-dampening layout, multiple chambers maybe.  Vegeta idly stretched out with a flicker of ki, curious if he could overhear better that way.   

Suddenly the hairs prickled on the back of his neck.  Kakarotto’s ki was rising.  Higher - higher than he’d ever felt it.   _Danger_.   Vegeta’s ki swelled in instinctive response to the surging waves of power.  He hurled himself into the building, blue-white aura shattering chunks of the entryway in his wake.  

“Kakarotto!” He roared, but stopped short at the sight of a massive hand engulfing the other Saiyan’s head, glowing menacing gold against his hair.  “Get away from it!” Vegeta lifted his arm to threaten the titan.

“No, don’t!” Dende appeared and clutched at Vegeta’s arm.  He thrust the child behind him.  Kakarotto’s eyes were rolled back to the whites, body convulsing.

“Release him, or you and every creature on this planet dies! Do it, now!” Kakarotto’s ki was fading.  Vegeta’s power roared in his ears, whipped his hair into his eyes in a frenzied violet gale.  Nail inserted himself between them, grim-faced and pathetic.  Nothing could survive his Galick-Ho - but Kakarotto was in its path.  

Dende clawed frantically at Vegeta’s leg.

“Vegeta, no! Goku’s _okay_ , he’s…”

Vegeta growled and shoved him back again.

“Vegeta…?”

His head snapped around to see the titan’s hand release its clawed grip on Kakarotto, who was left swaying on his feet.  He stumbled and jostled a massive glass-like sphere on the floor at his feet.  Vegeta wasted no time in taking his opportunity.  He leaped forward and hooked an arm around Kakarotto, the other scooping up the dragon ball.  He met no resistance from the Namekians as he blasted out and clear from the structure.  Clutching a limp Kakarotto and the ball to his chest, Vegeta put on a burst of speed to put as much distance between them and the creatures as possible.  

He ignored a twinge at leaving the child - but he was with his people.  

No pursuit followed.  He glanced behind to visually confirm the lack of ki signatures.  Kakarotto began to shake in his grasp, slightly at first but then violently.  Heart hammering, Vegeta swerved downwards and laid Kakarotto in the tall grass.  

“Kakarotto! What did they do?”  He laid his fingers against Kakarotto’s throat.  Pulse normal, breath erratic.

It was then that Vegeta noticed his eyes were open.  He was laughing.

“Vegeta, you… saved me from a grandpa!” Kakarotto wheezed.  

Vegeta drew back, appalled.  

“What?”

“Like a princess in a story.”  Kakarotto sat up in the grassy nest-like hollow.

“Stop laughing, you fool.  What did they do to you?”  Vegeta was acutely aware of the other Saiyan’s proximity.  His ki felt different - it buzzed in the air between them.

“Dai-Chourou said I had a latent power locked inside me, and said he could bring it out.  I guess that meant he could make me stronger.”  Kakarotto held his hands out to Vegeta in wonderment.  “It felt amazing! You should go ask him if he’d do you too!”

“I’d rather die,” Vegeta growled.  Its clawed fingers had reminded him of Frieza’s cruel hands and bloodied bandages.  “My power is my own.  You are too trusting, Kakarotto.  You are unharmed, to your knowledge?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”  Kakarotto shrugged and smiled.  “It still feels a bit funny but I can’t wait to see how strong I am now!”

Vegeta considered him carefully.  Kakarotto’s ki pulsed and fluttered erratically against him.  If what he’d felt earlier was anything to go by, Kakarotto could become a threat.  No.  That was Frieza’s poison welling up again.  Surely Kakarotto was incapable of that level of betrayal.  

“We will see,” he said finally.  “But you fight for your Prince, when and how I say.”

Kakarotto didn’t seem to be listening.

“Look how huge this planet’s dragon balls are!”

Vegeta stood and brushed himself off with gloved hands.  “I wouldn’t know.”  Tch, the crushed grass had stained his clothing.  He turned his attention to the small ki signature approaching their location.  “It seems the kid knows how to fly.”

Kakarotto looked up from the dragon ball just as Dende’s worried face appeared over the top of their grassy alcove.  

“Um, hello.  Is everything okay?”

Vegeta turned away and folded his arms with a scowl.  Embarrassment pissed him off.  

After being reassured by Kakarotto, Dende encroached into the space further.

“Please excuse Dai-Chourou for alarming you.  He should have warned you first, but,” his eyes suddenly glistened with tears, “he’s very old.  He doesn’t have much time left with us.  He asked me to let the village elders know you’ve received his approval, and, um, to…” Dende glanced wide-eyed at Vegeta.

“To keep an eye on _him_ ,” Kakarotto finished for him, grinning.  Dende smiled weakly.  

“You’ll also need a native speaker to summon Porunga and ask him for your wishes.  If you’re ready, we…”

Vegeta turned to face him.  Kakarotto’s mouth hung open.

“Wishes?” 

“Y-yes,” stammered Dende.  “Porunga will grant you anything you desire, as long as it’s within his power.”

“Not that.  You said wishes, plural?”

Dende shrank back from Vegeta’s intensity.  

“Yes, the dragon balls grant three wishes.”

“Three?!” Kakarotto whooped.  He leapt to his feet and engulfed Dende’s hands in his own.  “Dende, that’s amazing!  Earth’s dragon balls can only grant one.  Three!”

Vegeta’s mind raced.   _Three_. His all-consuming goal had been to attain immortality and destroy Frieza.  The possibility of _more_ had never even crossed his mind.   _Three wishes_.  A chill urgency gripped him by the throat.  He must not miss his chance again.  He would never get another.  Kill Frieza, or be killed and his race forgotten.  

“Enough,” he snapped at Kakarotto and Dende’s excited babble.  “We go, now.  The stakes are higher than I thought, and there is no time for stealth.  You must take me to the dragon balls before Frieza arrives on this planet and destroys us all.”

“He’s a real scary guy,” Kakarotto whispered conspiratorially at Dende’s alarmed look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, kudos and comments! <3


	8. Chapter 8

Abandoning stealth meant their journey back to the Namekian village was considerably shortened.  Not only were they able to tale to the air, but also to fly directly over the waterlogged terrain.  Dende had no chance of keeping up with Vegeta and Kakarotto, and he once again took up a position on Kakarotto’s shoulder.  Vegeta alternated between scanning the terrain flashing past for threats and extending his awareness outwards to search for his enemies.  He had no idea if the range of this new ability was comparable to the scouters of Frieza’s forces. 

The level of concentration required to constantly monitor for presences was exhausting.  He strove to only focus on that selective awareness but found his eyes wandering to Kakarotto’s reflection in the waters over which they flew.  Over and over he dragged his senses back to that single-minded focus.  Kakarotto’s humming presence was distracting but maddeningly captivating.  He’d never felt something like it, but at the same time it seemed as though he should recognise it in his bones.  And yet Kakarotto looked no different, acted no different, smelled no different – just that strange vibration that seemed to intensify with proximity. 

Vegeta sighed and dragged his eyes away.  _He was doing it again._  His flight path had drifted towards Kakarotto – the sensation was stronger, resounding silently in his chest.  Dende lifted an arm to point at the rapidly approaching village.  The wind and excitement had given his green cheeks a dusky glow, but he seemed otherwise unaffected by Kakarotto’s aura. 

Vegeta was the first to land in the centre of the busting village, and he sneered at the gasps drawn by the dragon ball in his arms.  As Dende gesticulated to the villagers with Kakarotto in tow Vegeta remained aloof, staring challengingly at any that dared to look in his direction, but his attention was split between studying the skies and Kakarotto.  He could almost see an afterimage as Kakarotto moved…  Was that his aura or…? 

Vegeta started as Kakarotto addressed him, jerking his unfocused eyes up to his. 

“Are you coming, Vegeta?”  At Vegeta’s blank look he continued, “They said they have to have a ceremony to give us the dragon ball.”

Vegeta groaned inwardly but allowed himself to be led to the village’s central building.  Kakarotto held open the door hanging, intricately embroidered in dyed plant fibres, and ducked in after Vegeta.  As he let the hanging fall behind him Vegeta was draped in darkness.  Bodies shifted – too close, all sides.  How many?  Vegeta’s back hit an unyielding surface and his wrist was seized.

“Kakarotto.” 

“They can’t hurt us, don’t worry.”  His breath whispered against Vegeta’s ear.  He snatched his arm back without a word, but held onto awareness of the warmth at his back. 

A torch flared.  Fanged faces circled through wafting silver smoke.  It stank.  A voice from beyond the circle of light spoke. 

“Strangers.  You stand before the heat of the triune sun whose flames bring life, youth and growth.” 

Vegeta’s skin prickled in the close heat of the torchlit space.  He shoved savagely at a silhouette that shifted too close; it stumbled and the Namekian ranks closed around it without a sound.  A hand appeared above the flickering torch, releasing a trickle of sand or dust into the flame. 

“Yet light creates shadows, and death follows life.  The hidden moon knows the truth of all things.  In darkness it sees all.”  The hand opened to release a stream of dust.  The torch flared briefly in response but was doused.  Smoke crept among the twilit assembly.  Vegeta licked numb lips with a sandpaper tongue.  What was this primitive rite?

Silver tendrils snaked through bodies crowded but anonymous, Saiyans and Namekians like oil and water.  Vegeta watched the smoke skim the huddled Namekians as one, monstrous faces boiling in the fog.  His heart was beating too quickly – he was losing control of the situation.  Kakarotto was silent and unmoving. 

Vegeta opened his mouth to speak, and couldn’t.  Eyes rolling, his mouth opened wider.  A silent scream escaped him.  He was babbling but his jaw was creaking wide at its breaking point.  Vegeta’s eyes stumbled to Kakarotto, who was stumbled forward and dry retching, gaping mindlessly.  Past the roaring in his ears, the stench in his nostrils, the gag deep in his throat, Vegeta spoke.  He could not hear the sound of his words or feel their shape.  The presence gagging him forced its way deeper – his throat, his sternum, his heart.  Face against the dirt with Kakarotto’s breath harsh on his cheek.  The black moon – he could taste her.  Vegeta convulsed. 

Worried voices drifted from afar, hands on his shoulders, pulling at him.  He had no care for them – she compelled his attention, required answers of him.  Vegeta gratefully opened himself to drown in her emptiness.  He lost time.  His body was moved against his will, forced to swallow a draught of something, cool and faintly sweet.  Kakarotto, too.  Vegeta couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He must have slept.  He remembered opening his eyes to Dende’s distressed face, more of the fragrant water being urged on him. 

The second time he awoke he took the small wooden cup from the child and waved him away with a grunt.  He scanned the darkened room – no windows.  Carpets and tapestries softened the rough construction and made the small space comfortably warm.  The sight of Kakarotto asleep next to him, mouth wide and snoring softly, reassured him that there was no lasting damage.  Vegeta roused him enough to take a few swallows of the silvery herbal tincture before flopping back down onto the surprisingly soft pallets they’d been given.  He waved a lax hand in Dende’s direction. 

“Unharmed.  Saiyan fortitude.”

Dende’s shoulders sagged with relief.

“I’m so sorry.  That wasn’t meant to happen.  No one has seen a reaction like that before to the lunar serum.  It’s only supposed to check whether seekers of the dragon balls mean us harm… It’s just dried perilune posies.”

 _Moon herbs?_   Vegeta yawned.

“Leave us.  But Dende…” He waited for Dende’s eyes to meet his.  “I won’t forget you poisoned me.  Don’t enter here unless I summon you.” 

The cub squeaked and fled from the round sleeping chamber.  Vegeta rolled himself in the blankets and went back to sleep.

Initially cosy, the warmth of the blankets increased and gradually grew oppressive.  Dozing, Vegeta kicked them away, vaguely aware of Kakarotto tossing restlessly on his pallet.  The sweltering heat became impossible to ignore.  He awoke and sat up carefully, monitoring his body for an expected soporific comedown.  No headache, confusion or dizziness - good.  But so fucking _hot_ suddenly, and thirsty.  Vegeta cast about for something to drink and noticed Dende had left behind a large ewer of his concoction next to the door.  Their armour, gloves and boots were next to it, propped against the wall.  He rose to his feet gingerly but was pleasantly surprised at the lack of stabbing pain behind his eyes.  _Perilune peonies huh… Never heard of them._

He retrieved a cup of the water and drank most of it, pouring the remainder into his hands to pat against his face and inner forearms.  His skin was dry, no sweat, but felt prickly, tight and hot.  The dampness provided scant relief from the heat - was it the room or himself?

“Vegeta.”  Kakarotto’s voice sounded hoarse. 

Vegeta turned around to see Kakarotto laying on his side, his head propped on one hand, elbow bent, hair a mess.  At some point he’d removed his battle suit top and the skin of his shoulders was as flushed pink as the tops of his cheeks.  Kakarotto motioned wordlessly at the water but Vegeta took his time, drawing another cupful and lowering his head to lazily douse his hair and neck.  Eventually, point made, he crossed the room to crouch and offer Kakarotto a cup.  After gulping the contents Kakarotto set it on the floor carelessly and sighed. 

“You look like shit,” Vegeta smirked.  _Liar._  He licked suddenly dry lips. 

“Why is it so hot in here?”  Kakarotto complained.  His ki was doing its strange pulsing again - this close, it was making it hard to focus.  Vegeta’s fingers twitched.

“I don’t know what’s going on with your power fluctuation – I don’t even know if that’s normal or not yet.  But the elevated temperature is probably a side effect of whatever we were drugged with.”  Vegeta swallowed as Kakarotto met his eyes, his strange ki buzzing.  “They called them lunar herbs.  As I believe you’re aware, we’re invariably sensitive to other planets’ satellites, not just our own, but the herb name may be unrelated.  Regardless, it should pass.” 

“I feel fine, but it’s just so _hot_!”

Without thinking, Vegeta placed the back of his hand against Kakarotto’s forehead – and gasped at the surge of ki into him.  He snatched his hand back as if burned by the unnatural heat of Kakarotto’s skin.

“I’m sorry.”  Kakarotto looked down, sharp teeth biting into his lower lip.

Droplets weighted down Vegeta’s hair and pattered one by one onto the bedsheets.  He watched his fingers move of their own accord, reaching to close the space between them.  He touched Kakarotto’s cheek and was left suddenly dizzied.

“Vegeta?”

“Kakarotto.”

_Ah, fuck…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the comments, kudos and patience - study commitments were unexpectedly massive for a while and I unfortunately wasn't able to update until now!


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